Crossed Universes from the Star Trek section
by PriestessMageMaeve
Summary: Erik has the chance to love and be loved by one who knows him better then Christine: a VulcanBetazoid officer from the Enterprise D.
1. Arrivals

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek or The Phantom of the Opera. I am simply placing one of my own characters into the Star Trek and Phantom universes. T'Maeve is the only one I own in this story. If you wish to use her in a story of your own, please e-mail me.  
  
Summery: I know it's been done before, but here's a twist: a Vulcan/Betazoid/Human woman enters the universe of Phantom of the Opera, and has to figure out why she's there. Erik discovers there can be someone else besides his love of Christine in his life-someone possibly better then Christine. I will draw from the musical for the most part, (by Andrew Lloyd Webber) and a little from the novels by Gaston Leroux and Susan Kay for my portrayal of Erik, and for the setting that T'Maeve enters. This story is set right before Christine gets the lead role, and before Raoul sees Christine, but Christine is getting her "lessons" from Erik. In the Star Trek Universe, this takes place right before the episode "Descent I" for The Next Generation.  
  
Crossed Universes  
  
Prologue: Dreams and Travel Plans  
  
T'Maeve sat bolt upright in her bed, the warmth of her cabin lending to the sheen of sweat on her forehead. Ugh, I hate that dream. I don't need to be reminded of my former husband, and that horrid 'wedding.'  
  
She got up, knowing after that dream she would not fall asleep again, and looked over her luggage. She was planning to visit her mother and brother on Vulcan in four days, and was already packed. With a diplomatic mission only a day away, she knew that she would have no time to pack beforehand.  
  
T'Maeve then looked at her face in the mirror, her pointed ears flushed green with anger at the dream, her dark red hair in thick curls, and her almost black eyes showing her Betazoid heritage, but with a tinge of warm green from the Human blood mixed in with her Betazoid side. Her skin was almost white, despite her time living on Vulcan, but that came from her Betazoid father. She missed him, but being not of a long life span, he had died some ten years before, her step brother (her father's son from a previous marriage) following a few years later. This now left T'Maeve, her mother T'Pol, and her stepbrother Sendet.  
  
She took a hairbrush and looked up to the ceiling. "Computer, "Phantom of the Opera," 'The Music of the Night' track." The computer made a soft sound, and then the words of the Phantom filled her quarters. T'Maeve smiled, and went about getting ready for her day.  
  
Q looked down upon the Enterprise-D and smiled. No, he wasn't here to bother poor Jean-Luc. Rather, he was here to replay a debt he owed to a certain redheaded Vulcan. He grinned that his plan may not make her too happy at first, but after time, she would appreciate what he was giving her- - a chance to love again.  
  
As he sat there in nothingness, another flash appeared. "Ah, Amanda, my dear. What brings you here?" Amanda, smiling softly, came over and looked at what Q was looking at.  
  
"Ah. T'Maeve. Thinking of finally repaying her for all she did for you when you lost your powers?" Amanda and T'Maeve had become friends during Amanda's time on the Enterprise.  
  
Q nodded. "Yes, as you have said on many occasions. It's time I replay her. I repaid my dear teacher of the Humanities, but now it's his sister's turn. You agree?"  
  
"Yes! Give her-and him- the chance they both want. Just make sure that the universe you find the Phantom in is not one that will have Starfleet show up later."  
  
Q took a hand to his heart in an over exaggeration of shock. "Moi? My dear girl, you still act like you are trying to get into Starfleet." He laughed. "No, having T'Maeve be hindered by the silly 'Prime Directive' is a waste of time. No, she will not have that hanging over her head."  
  
Amanda smiled. "Then, let the game begin." She flashed away, and Q soon followed, smiling to himself.  
  
Let the dream descend,...  
  
Chapter 1: Arrivals  
  
Erik sat, watching the scene below him. He had to hold in a laugh, as Carlotta sang like a dying cow. He shook his head, wondering where the managers had gotten this pitiful excuse of a singer. How dare they, in my opera house?  
  
The opera was under new management, and Erik was already very displeased with the attitudes that M. Richard and M. Moncharmin were displaying towards him. Renting out Box 5, his box!! He trembled with rage, as he looked down at the said new managers. His hands tightened into fists, and he was off, a swirl of black as he went down one of his many trap doors and back to his home. He knew he would deal with these fools very soon.  
  
T'Maeve handed the hypo spanner back to Geordi and crawled out of the Jeffries tube back into Main Engineering. She had been helping Cmdr. LaForge for over 4 hours now, and they still weren't anywhere near a solution to the problem.  
  
"Geordi, I can't find the problem anywhere! It's not in one of the warp conduits, or in any of the conduits at all. I can only assume that the problem lays within the drive itself."  
  
Geordi rubbed his head, feeling an even larger headache coming on then what his VISOR gave him. "That means we get to take the crystals out and see if re-aligning them will take care of the problem. We're late to that diplomatic mission to Irriandus IV as it is."  
  
T'Maeve raised her left eyebrow, in typical Vulcan fashion. "But, Geordi. Jean-Luc has no wish to go to the dinner that will be held as soon as we arrive. He hates the fact Starfleet is blowing this whole mission out of proportion. So the more we delay, the happier he will be." She grinned, and Geordi laughed.  
  
"True. But these are my engines. And I want to make sure they are in perfect working order."  
  
T'Maeve nodded, still grinning, and followed Geordi to the warp drive. Lt. Cmdr. Data was already waiting for them.  
  
"Data, I thought you were up on the bridge for this evenings watch?" T'Maeve looked at her 'brother' a bit confused.  
  
"I was called by Geordi to help in correcting the problem that is causing the warp engines to not function. And to ask if you would like to join me in playing in the evenings performance tomorrow night." As he said this, he knelt down to help T'Maeve get some equipment out of the case she was lugging around.  
  
"Of course! Shall I be playing violin or will you? Or both of us?" T'Maeve's eyes were glittering at the thought of performing again, as she loved to do.  
  
"Both of us. I was considering the piece you wrote, as your tribute to "The Phantom of the Opera." I feel two violin parts will compliment each other."  
  
T'Maeve grinned. "Perfect!! Ah, "Music of the Night." I can't wait to perform it. What time is the performance starting?"  
  
"At 1900 hours. I can meet in your quarters to practice, or you can meet in mine."  
  
"I'll meet in yours. Gives me the chance to play with and pamper Spot." She grinned, knowing Data was still trying to train Spot, and T'Maeve never made that training easy.  
  
Geordi laughed from his consol at the two of them. "Maeve, I would think Data would rather you would just say hello to Spot. After you get done 'playing' with her, she never listens to Data's commands." Data looked back at Geordi and cocked his head. "But Geordi, she has never listened to my commands."  
  
T'Maeve bust up laughing, and she sat down hard on the floor holding her sides. "You two!! You'll send me to an early grave with the humor you inspire!" Data gave her an alarmed look, but realized that she was joking. His eyes looked at her calmly, and she gave him a pat on his back. "But, that's why you are like a brother to me. Both of you." She got up, and headed back to another Jeffries tube. "I'm going to check up on something, I'll be right back."  
  
"Just don't fall into a black hole!" Geordi called, teasing her. T'Maeve always had a habit of getting into odd situations, like getting stuck in the Jeffries tube that one time.  
  
"Ha, ha. Very funny." T'Maeve just smiled and hopped into the tube head first, and poked around. No problems in the conduits here, and she made to slide out- -  
  
And landed in a dark tunnel, her luggage from her quarters (the luggage she had packed to take home with her in a few days) sitting by her side. She jumped, and looked around. The tunnel was almost too dark, but a bit of light came from a few torches set into the walls further on down. The air smelled damp, and she could hear someone singing-badly, from what she could tell, far above her.  
  
Where the heck am I? She took out her tricorder, and checked her luggage, and was pleased to know it was at it seemed, but it wasn't a holodeck creation. "OK, I'm not on the holodeck, so where else can I be?" She scanned the wall, where she thought the Jeffries tube was, and found only stone. She continued to scan the stone, and the tricorder came back with a very odd date: 1881. She blinked and then thought to cast her mind out to scan the people above her.  
  
It was at these times she was thankful for her Betazoid and Vulcan blood, for it made her telepathic abilities unique to Vulcans and Betazoids alike. As she moved her shields down, she started to look for certain people. She was too surprised by what she found.  
  
OK, we have the great diva Carlotta, from the thoughts going through her mind, now Mme. Giry, trying to calm the ballet girls down, the managers, it seems by their thoughts. But the real test. She 'looked' farther down, down the hall she stood in and 'listened' for the distinct thoughts that would identify the one person whose existence would prove the theory forming in her mind. She found it, in the jumble of anger and joy over a piece of music.  
  
Erik. The Phantom of the Opera. T'Maeve pulled back slowly from his mind, wondering what piece of music he was working on to calm himself down from what felt like an insult he had suffered. Probably wondering why the new managers are acting like idiots, she surmised. Having read all the novels she could get her hands on, she had a clear idea what the managers had done to upset Erik so much. She didn't want to pull away though, as his mind was a beautiful thing to her. A blend of logic and passion, and tempered with all he had gone through in his life. I know how you feel Erik. I know how it is to be shunned because of your looks, or in my case blood. We're in the same boat, as the Humans like to say.  
  
She took in a breath, and could just now, with her Vulcan hearing, make out the music Erik was creating. She sighed. This was a dream come true, but now she had a larger problem.  
  
What was she to do now?  
  
Hope you like it. The sequel to my story, "My Inner Life" is on hold due to a sever case of writer's block. If you have any ideas for what I should do for a sequel please let me know.  
  
Will be continued in Chapter 2: Revelations from Q. 


	2. Revelations from Q

Disclaimer: Same as before. Now for the next chapter!! Many thanks to my boyfriend for being a wonderful help (and patient too-he didn't tell me to shut up. he's so nice. )  
  
Note: Any words in are in Vulcan. Words in ^^ are in Betazoid. Enjoy!  
  
Chapter 2: Revelations from Q.  
  
T'Maeve sat down by her bags and sighed. Wonderful. I am in the world I love to dream about. But I can't do a damn thing, because it will disrupt the Prime Directive! And if I hide out, since I'm most likely not going home any time soon, I could either fall into the torture chamber, or be strangled by Erik's Punjab lasso. Both ideas are not good, or comfortable. And I have no idea how to get home,. wait a minute.  
  
T'Maeve stood up and whispered. "Q? Some help here please. it would be welcomed." Nothing. She sighed. Well, I tried. Didn't expect much.  
  
A flash nearly blinded her, and her third eye* slid down to protect her eyes. The flash faded, and there stood Q, in command red as usual. "Ah, my dear T'Maeve. What do you think of my gift to you?"  
  
T'Maeve blinked. "Gift? Bringing me here is a gift? I love that I am here for real, but you of all people should know the Prime Directive-"  
  
"Ah, that silly thing. My dear, you have no reason to worry about it. You see, this is not the same universe where you are from. Starfleet will never exist in this universe. The Prime Directive has no meaning here."  
  
She raised her eyebrow. "Really? You brought me here as a gift, and have made it so that I can interact without breaking the Prime Directive? Why?"  
  
Q smiled. "For all you did for me when I lost my Q powers. I repaid your dear brother, but I never got the idea for this gift to repay you for all of your kindness until now. I do regret the lateness of the gift."  
  
T'Maeve laughed. "Q, no worries! I'm just flattered. I know Jean-Luc would be wondering of an ulterior motive, or if this is a simple game to amuse yourself. But I have come to know you. In this, I feel no lies, just honest desire to give me a gift. And besides, I will always help you when you need it. Despite being an all-powerful being, you still are alone at times. And you know as well as I do how it is to be alone."  
  
Q's eyes lowered. "That I do. Well, if all goes according to plan, and Amanda is successful, you shall not be alone ever again. Well, until his Human lifespan runs out. But by then, you'll have a child to remind you of him."  
  
"Amanda? She helped in this?" T'Maeve grinned. "I thank her too. But I don't know about love Q. After that pitiful excuse for a I don't know if I can love again." She knew full well who 'he' was, that Q was talking about. Again, she thought she might not be ready for love, despite having been divorced for over 60 years. Her eyes lowered, remembering how much she was hurt, knowing that due to her lack of being full-blooded Vulcan, her husband was planning to have her killed. She shuddered. And to think, we Vulcan's created IDIC. And some of us can't even live by it in any way. It's so stupid.  
  
"Yes, I agree," Q commented, as he heard her thoughts. He shook his head. "I am glad that man is no longer alive. I can do with him as I please now that he's dead."  
  
T'Maeve looked at him. "What's this, Q going soft?" She grinned, and Q knew she was teasing him. He thought he should be angry, but wasn't. After all, she was like this all the time, and he rather enjoyed verbally sparring with her. She'll disarm even the great Phantom himself with that personality. Amanda was right indeed, saying they are meant for each other. Q glared at T'Maeve, but she just laughed. "Don't give me that look, Q. I know you too well. It doesn't work." She paused and grew thoughtful. "OK, so I can do as I please. But what about my dress? What shall I do here, and while your 'gift' unfolds? I have a feeling it may take some time to see if your gift, and Amanda's as well, will bear fruit."  
  
"At least you're thinking about it. That's a start. Well, how about being a dancer? They are looking for new people. And that silly man the Vicomte de Chagny hasn't been to the Opera yet. So you have a chance my dear. I feel 'he' will be watching. But as for clothes,.." Q snapped his fingers and T'Maeve stood in a dark blue 1880's dress, complete with corset and bustle in the back. It had a high neck, and it was made of rather good quality of material, but simple in design. She looked at herself, and grinned.  
  
"I always did enjoy wearing these dresses. Can't wear them on Vulcan, but that is alright." She picked up her bags (which now looked period and were filled with other dresses like the one she wore) and looked back at Q. "Auditions, you say? Hm. I have an idea. But where shall I stay? Here in the Opera, or in a flat nearby, like in my holodeck re-creations?"  
  
Q thought a moment, and snapped his fingers. "A flat awaits you this evening, my dear. Rent paid already. And you have some money with you in that bag that I placed there. Will that do for your ruse?"  
  
"Perfectly. Now, which way out, so as to not look conspicuous?" She raised her eyebrow, and felt for her ears, seeing they were now hidden by her hair.  
  
"This way, I believe. And my dear, go break a leg."  
  
T'Maeve laughed. "Ha, ha, Q. Very funny. I'm just glad I took time to learn French. I think the Universal Translator would sound odd to this time period." As she said this, she tucked away the communicator and her tricorder where they wouldn't be seen.  
  
"Now that's settled. As I said, this is a gift for you. I don't usually act like this, but unlike Jean-Luc you aren't thinking I'm doing this for my own amusement. Do call for me if you really need it. But you look like you'll do just fine."  
  
"I think I will, Q. Thank you again. And I will do my best. You just sit back, and enjoy the show. And I'll see about thawing out my heart again." She laughed, and realized that she was serious. She would give this opportunity a shot. Besides, it wasn't everyday someone like her got to perform like this. She never really could on Vulcan, as it was too emotional of someone related to the great Surak (and subsequently Sarak) to act like that in public. This was better then any holodeck program, though she made a mental note to go over this place with her tricorder, to see of the historians got the specs right.  
  
"I think you shall have no regrets. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a certain captain who would like to know where you have gone." With that Q disappeared, and T'Maeve was soon standing outside in the Paris sun. The door to the opera house stood in front of her. She took a deep breath, and walked in.  
  
With thanks to Q (giving her papers to prove her false identity and training), she was walking away from the manager's office an hour later. T'Maeve (known as Maeve Evans for her part in this period) walked towards Mme. Giry to ask her where a dressing room was, so she could change and be ready for her audition. The woman took a look at her and the way she walked, and her eyes lit up. "I think you shall be one of the best dancers I have had the chance to teach," she whispered to Maeve as they walked down the hall. As luck would have it, Maeve's room was next to Christine's, where she saw the girl run out in a hurry to be ready for practice. Maeve looked the girl over briefly, and shook her head.  
  
The girl is just a child. I can see why in the story she runs off with Raoul, after all Erik gives her. Though she would be a child. I am older then anyone here, being 86. After getting settled, Maeve ran to the stage, and awaited her turn to perform. The other girls looked at her wondering who she was, and Maeve smiled at them trying to make them be comfortable. She was not that comfortable herself, having been stared at a good deal in her life. Then Mme. Giry was calling to her. "Now, try this piece." The dance in question was for a gala to be performed in only 9 days (the same one where Christine 'comes out of the closet' as it were and Raoul sees her, Maeve realized), and she remembered doing this piece on the holodeck. She moved her way through the piece; with a grace even she was a bit surprised of, and feeling the music fill her in a way it never had before. She was flying, and she put her heart into the dance, letting herself go and forgetting all sense of Vulcan decorum. At the end of it, Mme. Giry was beaming. "I was right! A wonderful dancer! Now, come here and I shall go over with you the rest of this performance."  
  
So began Maeve's first day in Paris, 1881. And by the end of the day, her feet hurt. But as Maeve went to the flat Q was so nice to provide, she was glad that this chance had come. Usually she would have asked to go back to her time, but something told her to stay. And she never knew her gut instincts to be wrong before, so why not now?  
  
As she curled up on a chair by the fire, she took out her portable computer (making sure her violin was safe in its box), and began her personal log.  
  
Erik was in his Box, watching the dancers practicing for the upcoming gala. Feeling bored, he had wandered back up to his box, trying to think of ways to scare the managers into realizing he meant business. He watched as a new girl walked out on stage, with a grace he had never seen before. She obviously had just been hired, as he had never seen her before. So, a new dancer for the corps du ballet. She seems to hold promise. He watched Maeve go though the dance, and was a bit surprised that she knew the moves so well, as if she had done it before. But he could never recall seeing her perform anywhere in Paris, or had even heard of her. So where had she learned to dance like that, and be as graceful as he was in her movements?  
  
As the girl moved off to her dressing room at the end of the day, he followed through the tunnels in the walls. He realized her room was near his beloved Christine's. Looking through the mirror he watched as she dressed behind a screen, singing with a voice almost better then Christine's. She sings! And with such a wonderful voice! Who is this girl, who sings like this? She finished preparing herself in the mirror a few minutes later, and he thought he caught a sight of a pointed ear before she set her hair around her head. Pointed ears? Was that what I saw? It was so quick. She left soon afterwards, still singing, and he was sorely tempted to follow. But he did not, but rather decided to watch her again tomorrow. He had to find out more about this woman! He retreated into his home across the lake, and sat at this desk. Feeling compelled, he began to write.  
  
Whew!! OK, two chapters in one day. Possible chapter three tonight, but most likely not. Again, thanks to my boyfriend for his proofreading. Please read and review!  
  
* For those not familiar with Vulcan physiology, they have a third eyelid that protects from certain wavelengths of light.  
  
Continued in Chapter 3- - Observations, Discoveries, and More Questions 


	3. Observations, Discoveries, and More Ques...

Disclaimer: Same old, same old.  
  
Just wanted to thank Single Red Rose from FanFiction.net, and those who have reviewed my story so far. Many thanks for your words, and I'm glad people are liking this, and not just going 'What kind of junk is this?!' I shall explain the reasons (and more back-story) T'Maeve calls Capt. Picard by his first name. Also, for those that are commenting on T'Maeve's grinning: she is very emotional thanks to her Betazoid blood. And unlike Spock, she lets her emotions show. Her logic in showing her feelings is that she may as well embrace them, as they are part of her. She'll talk about this more in future chapters. She can be very logical and very distant like Spock if need-be.  
  
This chapter is to tie in the rest of the story, and hopefully lay out the main flow of the following chapters. After this, the action and drama shall start to appear. And most likely the budding romance. * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Chapter 3: Observations, Discoveries, and More Questions  
  
T'Maeve sighed as thunder rumbled through her rather good-sized flat. No matter how many planets she visited, her blood ran with desert heat, and rain always made her feel a bit chilled. She loved the sound it made though, and it was a very nice pattering as she wrote away on the paper in front of her. She looked over the musical notes in front of her, her latest piece. Smiling, she moved to the top of the paper to give it a title. "Second Chances."  
  
Sitting her quill down, she looked over the piece again, and then put it aside for the last of the ink to dry. Walking to the window, she sat in the bench that made up the windowsill. "I miss all of you, back on the Enterprise. But yet, I am happy here. Even with the wet and coolness of this environment," she murmured to herself. As the rain fell down the window, she let herself get lost in memories.  
  
**Flashback**  
  
T'Maeve looked up as Capt. Picard walked into her quarters right on time, as always. "Sir. You asked to come by and talk with me. Did your mind meld with Sarek go well?" She asked this as she moved to make Vulcan tea, and Picard took the seat she offered.  
  
"Yes, it did go well. His conference will most likely be remembered as one of his best. I wish I could do more for him." Picard looked sad and very tired as he said this. T'Maeve came back to a chair in front of him and looked into his face.  
  
"You cannot do anything more then what you have already done. Your meld with him has shown you just how much he means to me. He was a second father to Sendet, Michael, and myself even though Michael had no Vulcan blood in his veins. And the ties to Sarek that my brother Sendet and I have, is through our mother. But it didn't matter that he was not our blood father. And now, as I look at him, I also wish I could do more." Her eyes looked blacker then Picard remembered, reflected amber by the flame of her meditation candle and fire pit in her quarters. "You now carry some part of my other father in you, sir. And in that, he shall never truly die. In a way, you are now part of him as well."  
  
Picard smiled, and looked at T'Maeve, not as her commanding officer but as Sarek looked at her. Her red hair, now black in the low light, caught the fire in it as it framed her face in thick curls. Her skin had an otherworldly pale glow about it, but her eyes had dark circles, denoting the lack of sleep caused by Sarek's illness being in the forefront of her mind. But what struck Picard was that he looked upon this woman, a good many years older then he, and saw her as the daughter he wish he had. But now did, for in him lay Sarek's emotions, the echo of the love for this woman the ambassador held for her.  
  
"I agree with you, T'Maeve. I know I can be very,.. aloof towards fatherly feelings, but you are right. And you have been there for me in many ways. Is this familiarity the same between Spock and Kirk?"  
  
T'Maeve nodded. "It was, yet different from us. Even with Jim gone now,..Spock still thinks about him, I would suspect. Just know that as my captain, I shall never cross lines you set in the sand. But you are a friend, and one of the best captains I have ever served with. And I see in your eyes my surrogate father's emotions reflected in them. And I know now that you truly understand what I have gone through in my life to make me who I am. You, of anyone else on this ship, know this information the best. And you will most likely be the only one who will."  
  
Nodding, Picard sipped his tea. After a time, he looked at her again. "If you ever need someone to talk to, you know how to find me."  
  
T'Maeve grinned. "Does this now mean I can call you Jean-Luc?" Picard laughed, and nodded. "Yes, you may."  
  
A glint of mischief flashed through T'Maeve's eyes, and she gave Picard a look. "Just know, I'm still giving Bev a chance to work her way into your heart. And don't give me that look, Jean-Luc! I have seen the looks you give her. I say go for it, but I do understand your views of that sort of thing."  
  
Picard tried to look angry, but looked a bit amused instead. "Your former commander was accurate when he reported you had a 'sharp tongue,' and never had a problem in speaking your mind."  
  
"Well, why lie to please others, when you can say the truth, in a tactful way, and feel no guilt in deceiving the other person. I have been lied to so much; I cannot bear to do the same. It's just not in me. Oh, I will lie if need-be. That old adage that Vulcan's do not lie is a misnomer. But if given a choice, we would rather tell the truth and be done with it." She sat back in her chair, and raised her eyebrow, waiting for his comment.  
  
Picard said nothing, but he did return the eyebrow. T'Maeve almost fell over laughing.  
  
"Jean-Luc!! I never knew you had that type of a sense of humor! Don't let Will know, or he will get you to perform in the talent contest he's planning in the next eight days." Picard gave an odd look, and placed his cup down. "I shall not let that happen for as long as I can. I have my hobbies, and I enjoy them alone. With the exception of Dixon Hill. Will can find someone else to do stand-up comedy."  
  
"I agree with that. More tea?" And that is how the rest of the evening went; T'Maeve and Picard talking about their lives, childhoods, and anything else that came up. And when the next morning came, and Sarek stood in the transporter room with his wife Perrin, Picard watched on quietly as T'Maeve and Sarek embraced and then just looked at each other. Sarek looked ready to cry, and T'Maeve was already crying, but besides that she was the image of logic.  
  
And as Sarek and Perrin disappeared in the transporter beam and the room was empty, Picard placed his hand on T'Maeve's back as she cried.  
  
**End Flashback**  
  
T'Maeve smiled, as she recalled how that beginning of friendship with the captain grew into the father/daughter relationship they now had, strengthened due to Picard's assimilation by the Borg only a few months later. T'Maeve never left Picard's side as he recovered. Neither did Beverly Crusher, for that matter. Yet, even the chief medical officer of the ship needed sleep. So while Beverly wasn't there, T'Maeve was. Standing by the side of her captain, and friend.  
  
Any other musings were interrupted by a knock on the door. Quickly making sure her ears were hidden, and all 24th century items were secured and tucked away, she walked to the door and called out. "Who is it?"  
  
"It's me, Meg! Can I come in?" T'Maeve smiled, and unlocked the door, letting little Meg Giry enter, closing the door behind the young girl.  
  
"What a nice surprise! What brings you to my home, Meg?" T'Maeve asked as she moved into the kitchen to make tea.  
  
"Well, I just wanted to see how you were doing. You looked a bit distracted today at rehearsal, and also to see if you had heard!"  
  
"Heard about what, Meg?" T'Maeve walked over to Meg, handing her hot tea, and sitting down across from where Meg sat on the other couch in the sitting room of the flat.  
  
"The Opera Ghost! He was seen today, just before you left! It looked like he was going towards your dressing room, and I had hoped he hadn't done anything to you."  
  
T'Maeve smiled. "I was hearing a lot of commotion, but thought nothing of it. I really thought Carlotta was just making a scene again, about her greatness or some other thing like that." She made a face, and Meg nodded quickly.  
  
"I agree with you, Maeve. She truly thinks that she is the greatest singer in the world, and we should all agree with her." Noticing the niceness of the flat, Meg looked at T'Maeve with a bit of confusion. "Maeve, if you do not feel offended by my asking, why are you dancing? You live nicely. You seem to have means. Why work at the Opera when you could be living in the country somewhere?"  
  
T'Maeve grinned, and sipped her tea before replying. "Well, you have a point. But I was never one for fitting in. My father, before he passed away, told me I could be and do whatever I wanted when I set my mind to it. '"The heck with convention,"' he used to say. And I followed him. My mother sometimes thinks that what I'm doing is a bit too public, and maybe I ought to behave like the true proper lady. But she knows I cannot do that. That would not be me. I have all the manners, and yet I am a free spirit. So she lets me continue, for in doing what I want I am a full person. She has supported me from the first day I asked to learn to dance, and sing. Then I learned to play violin, and realized I have an ability to write music, though I never really learned how. It just came naturally."  
  
Meg's eyes widened. "Really? Will you play for me tomorrow after practice?" T'Maeve nodded, and the two discussed which songs T'Maeve would play, while Meg worked on some of her dance moves. Meg couldn't stay long, and T'Maeve showed her out, as she had to hurry home before her mother grew worried.  
  
After Meg left, T'Maeve settled into her favorite spot on the couch, and continued with her personal log entry for the day. * * * * * * * * *  
  
The next day was frantic, with dancers and managers alike looking around as if they would catch sight of the Opera Ghost. T'Maeve almost laughed, knowing full well if Erik wanted to be seen, he would be seen in his own way. Mme. Giry was banging her stick trying to calm the girls down, and Carlotta went on and on about how all of this commotion was causing her to lose her concentration. All in all, a typical day.  
  
Afterwards, Meg showed up at T'Maeve's dressing room, and sat down on a chair. T'Maeve took out her violin and began to play, the music filling the room. As T'Maeve played, Meg went through her dance moves, with T'Maeve calling out suggestions at a few points. Meg did not know (but T'Maeve did suspect) that they had an audience behind the mirror. T'Maeve knew her music would get Erik's attention eventually.  
  
And in fact, Erik was watching. He had spent the morning working on the piece of music that sprung up in his mind the first time he had heard T'Maeve sing. He was on his way to give Christine one of her 'lessons,' but the music he heard from T'Maeve's room stopped him dead in his tracks.  
  
**Such near flawless music! Not even the players of the orchestra can play this well.** Erik watched for a time, until Meg left for the evening, and T'Maeve put her violin away. She looked in the mirror, and Erik had the odd feeling she looked right through him. But it passed as she readied to return to her home. As quietly as he could, he moved away from the mirror, and down towards Christine's room, new ideas for his music popping up, in response to T'Maeve's violin. * * * * * * * *  
  
As usual, the following day was like the ones before, but this time, the air was thick with nervousness. The Opera Ghost had been seen around the props that morning by stagehands, and the ballet girls were in an uproar. T'Maeve watched the going-ons and acted as nervous as she could, while trying not to laugh or sit the girls down and tell them there really was no ghost. But she doubted they would listen to her anyway.  
  
She wasn't bothered by the displays from the dancers. But knowing what she knew, it was hard not to want to educate these young ones. That and the screams some made during the day as one story was told after another, hurt T'Maeve's sensitive hearing.  
  
She did hope for a sighting of her own. She could sense Erik moving to and from his home under the Opera. He was very preoccupied about something, but T'Maeve did not wish to dig further, knowing Erik might sense her if she did. But he was 'wired for sound,' as it were.  
  
Suddenly, Jammes and Meg let out screams and pointed. T'Maeve, standing by them winced, but followed their pointed fingers. There in Box 5 was Erik. A slight smile was seen under the white mask, and then he was gone. Meg then ran over to T'Maeve and latched onto her. The force of the girl hugging T'Maeve nearly sent both girls falling to the floor.  
  
"Ok, Meg, it's alright. You can stop trying to break my ribs," T'Maeve said lightly, trying to make Meg laugh a bit. The force of Meg's emotions left T'Maeve's mental senses a bit raw. Humor always made that feeling go away.  
  
It didn't work. "Oh Maeve! Did you see, did you see?!" Meg was white, and shaking like a leaf.  
  
"Oui, oui, I saw. But he didn't do anything. Just calm down. Look, here comes your mother. It's time to practice again." T'Maeve moved back to her spot, and Meg followed, copying T'Maeve's example of bravery.  
  
As Mme. Giry pounded her stick and the dancers started to move again, T'Maeve could not help but feel that it was time, or close to it, when she would have to track Erik down, and see what happened. If he didn't track her down first.  
  
**And that is a very distinct possibility,** she thought. For as Meg's emotions hit her full force, T'Maeve did catch one thought from Erik before he billowed away, Phantom-style:  
  
**"I must find out all I can about that girl."** And T'Maeve knew he was talking about her. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Again, many thanks to those that have reviewed, and to my boyfriend, my helpful editor. If any of you have ideas or would like to help me beta read each chapter before it is posted, drop me an e-mail, and we'll see what can be arranged. I am a full-time student, and help is wonderful.  
  
The action and drama heats up in Chapter 4- - Opening Night and Dressing Room Encounters 


	4. Opening Night and Dressing Room Encounte...

Disclaimer: No changes, except that from here on, except for some scenes in one chapter, the story will hold to the A.L.W. play timeline. Many thanks to the following site for having the sequence of the play: Heather Conzett's Phantom of the Opera Homepage page has a good deal more on it, so do check it out. * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Chapter 4- - Opening Night and Dressing Room Encounters  
  
Finally the night had arrived: the gala. T'Maeve stood in the shadows of the curtains as Christine sang the lead part. The circumstances that landed Christine the lead happened as they did in the musical. T'Maeve still laughed at Carlotta's reaction to the falling piece of scenery which chased her away. **Good riddance,** was her only thought.  
  
The look on Christine's face when Meg pushed her to the front was priceless, and Maeve couldn't help but feel for the very nervous girl. Yet, now as Christine sang, Maeve could not see a bit of nervousness in the young diva-to-be.  
  
Maeve scanned the crowd, looking for any signs of Erik. What she did find made her groan. Raoul, in the managers box, smiling. He looked surprised to see the grown woman, who he remembered as the girl who lost her scarf so many years before. **Here comes trouble. It's all down hill from here, if the events from the musical occur.** She shook her head, and looked back at Christine, who was taking her final bows. The rest of the cast ran out, and Maeve let herself get swept up in the rush of it all for a moment. It was fun, to perform like this, but it was tempered with a nagging feeling that this night was far from over.  
  
As the curtains fell for the last time, Maeve dashed to her dressing room to get the make-up off. She felt she was being smothered by it. She heard Christine and Meg talking about the 'Angel of Music,' and sighed again. **If you only knew. But you Christine, you will know soon. And the hope he has will fall apart when you see his face, and cannot get past it in any way.** Maeve finished getting dressed, and sat to listen to Raoul talking to the managers about Christine, saying how good she was and his history with her. Then he was knocking on her door, telling her she was wonderful and all that. Maeve leaned back against her chair in front of her mirror and shook her head. "Silly girl. You have no idea what chaos you are about to unleash. I may be a bit melodramatic, but still, it will be chaos to Erik, and to Raoul, and to the Opera house."  
  
Maeve was so preoccupied by listening to the going-ons next door, Erik's voice in the dark shocked her; she had not sensed him in the room at all.  
  
"How do you know my name!?" * * * * * * * * * * * Erik moved like a cat towards Christine's room after the performance. But a nagging curiosity about Maeve made him stop outside her mirror for a moment. **Maybe I'll learn a bit more about her, before I reveal myself to my Christine,** was what he told himself, as he stood behind her mirror. He watched as the girl sat down and looked at the mirror, and shook her head. Erik could hear a bit of what was going on outside Maeve's door, and knew the managers were talking with a young man about Christine. This was obviously why Maeve was looking rather irate and shaking her head. Erik had to agree, the managers were an annoying bunch. But what the girl said next shook him to the core.  
  
"Silly girl. You have no idea what chaos you are about to unleash. I may be a bit melodramatic, but still, it will be chaos to Erik, and to Raoul, and to the Opera house"  
  
**She knows my name?! How can she know that? No one knows my name!!** Erik stood there, fists clenched in anger, and feeling threatened. Part of him wanted to run, get away from this. But another part reminded him that he wanted to know all he could about this girl. He decided to find out just how much this girl really knew.  
  
"How do you know my name!?" * * * * * * * * *  
  
Maeve raised her head, and looked around for Erik. She realized that he was behind the mirror, and he was mad. Very mad. **Oh, wonderful. You just dug yourself a wonderful grave. Well, at least you've finally 'met' him. May as well be bold.** She looked right at the mirror, and made her face and voice as calm as she could.  
  
"I know your name, sir, due to your history. If you want to discuss it further, you are welcome to step into my dressing room from behind the mirror. I will even turn my back, if that will make you feel more comfortable." **Smooth Maeve, very smooth.**  
  
Erik blinked, shocked by her forwardness. No one ever talked to him like this,. besides Nadir, his old friend. He pondered her words, his rational side telling him to leave and get out of a possible dangerous situation. But his curiosity over this girl got the better of him yet again, and he stepped closer to the mirror. "I will not enter, but I will talk. How do you know who I am? And what do you mean by history?"  
  
Maeve smiled slightly, and settled into her chair. "The history part will take a rather long time to explain, but allow me to say I understand you, and what you have gone through. I also know how it feels to be shunned for what you are. You have the 'excuse' as it were of a look about your face. While mine is blood. And there is nothing I can do to hide that, or change it." Her eyes took on a very hard, pain-filled look as she remembered all the things she experienced. She knew this look in her eyes would most likely prove her truthfulness to Erik, suspecting he had a similar look in his eyes every day. It was a look that she saw in her own mirror enough times in a day.  
  
Being the mirror was one-way, Maeve couldn't see Erik draw back at her words, but as he looked into her eyes, he was taken aback even more by the look in them. **It's the same look as,.me. Why would someone like her carry that look? What does she mean by blood? Is she like the Gypsy's I spent time with, being excluded because she's not full-blooded something, whatever that may be? I have never seen ears like hers before. Are they part of her exclusion?** Erik thought over her words, and realized this conversation was only bringing up more questions then answers. "You, my dear, confuse me. What do you mean?"  
  
Maeve took a breath, but was stopped as Raoul started in asking Christine to dinner. Maeve sighed, and looked back at the mirror. "Your lessons have helped Christine. I've overheard several. But you may want to continue with your checking in on her, which is where I assume you are off to. Sounds like the Viscount de Chagny is trying to drag her off to dinner." Maeve shook her head. "But I realize that I have confused you greatly. If you wish to continue this conversation later, leave me a message telling so, and we shall talk further. Does that sound fair?"  
  
Erik blinked, again taken aback by this girl's forwardness. But, it was a rather refreshing change. Much like talking with Nadir. He pondered her words, and nodded, surprising himself in accepting her offer. "Your offer has merit. Thank you, mademoiselle. I shall leave a letter on your dressing room table when I have the opportunity to talk with you again. It was,.. a very interesting talk while it lasted." Saying this, part of him wanted to talk longer with this mysterious girl. But thoughts of his Christine straying too far, when he planned to take her to his home, spurred him to get to her room quickly.  
  
Maeve nodded. "Thank you, sir. I shall look forward to talking with you again. Just know, where you wish to talk again is up to you. But I will vouch for the safety and privacy of my flat, if you wish to consider. And I hope I am not being too forward by suggesting it." **Too forward?! Good Gods, girl! This is the 1880's, not the 24th century!** But what was said was said, and she held her breath to see the outcome.  
  
Erik almost laughed. **Rather forward indeed** But he held the mirth in check. "It is not too forward, and I thank you for the suggestion. I know where your home is, and it is suitable, if the need arises." **Arises? What kind of a word is that?! She'll think you plan to seduce her.** But that fear was unfounded, as Maeve laughed.  
  
"Interesting choice of words. No offence, sir. I shall talk with you later. And I hope you enjoyed the evenings performance."  
  
Erik did laugh at this, and nodded to himself. "I did. Now, I shall be on my way." He hurried off to Christine's room, his mind a jumble. **What have you gotten yourself into now? What are you in store for?**  
  
If he only knew what would happen in the next 24 hours,. * * * * * * * *  
  
Maeve shook, her nerves shot by his voice and his aura. **OK, you didn't faint, you didn't throw yourself at him, but the books and musical have nothing on his voice or his very essence! What have you gotten yourself into?** She smiled as she collected her things, and headed home.  
  
She knew that the next 24 hours were to be exciting at the least. And she wondered if she would play counselor before the week was out. * * * * * * * * * *  
  
OK, this chapter was quick, but I have homework to do. More excitement on its way in Chapter 5- - Fallout Below the Opera and Counseling Sessions 


	5. Fallout Below the Opera and Counseling S...

Disclaimer: No change, except to thank my roommate for some wonderful ideas for this chapter and the end of the story. And thanks to Lessa and Takara Soong for their suggestions, which I will incorporate. Lastly, thank you to my boyfriend for being the ever-helpful and patient editor.  
  
The next few chapters may be delayed, as my copy of Susan Kay's "Phantom" just arrived at the bookstore I ordered it from, and I want to read some of it. If I have to type stuff about his past before I get the chance to read it in "Phantom," and mess something up, please let me know.  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
Chapter 5 – Fallout Below the Opera and Counseling Sessions  
  
T'Maeve stood backstage and watched Mme. Giry bang her stick on the floor. It was another practice session today, and there had been no word from Christine since last night, opening night. Maeve shook her head, wishing she could change the events already set in motion. **At lease I've had the chance to talk to him, and possibly earn his trust.** Too soon, it was her turn to get into place, and begin her dance steps. All was going well, and Maeve let herself go slightly, moving with the music. But the feeling she had been waiting for since that morning hit her like a ton of bricks.  
  
**Pain, anger, rage,.... Sadness, such sadness,.... Fear of seeing death,... such fear,...** Maeve was on one foot in a very complicated dance move, and it took all her Vulcan training to stay on her feet. **Don't fall, don't fall,.. this will pass.**  
  
It did pass, and as soon as practice was over, Maeve ran to her dressing room before her composure left her. She locked the door behind her and fell into the divan in the room shaking and crying. **Oh, Erik. I'm sorry, so sorry this has happened to you,... such pain and hurt from you and Christine. Why, Christine?! Why did you have to take off his mask?**  
  
So wrapped up in trying to shut her perceptions down so as to re-center herself, she hardly noticed Amanda flashing into the room, carrying a pot of tea and a sad smile on her face.  
  
"Maeve, I brought this. I'm sorry Q or myself can not stop what's going on, but I think you know as well as I that this is fated to happen, no matter what we want." Amanda sat down by Maeve and handed her a cup of tea. Maeve smiled her thanks and let the soothing flavor of her favorite tea calm her raw emotions. "I understand, Amanda. I was actually hoping that you and Q would not be messing with Erik's feelings or anything, but I wish this event could have been avoided."  
  
Amanda blinked, seeming a bit surprised. "You thought Q or myself would have influenced Erik? Why?"  
  
Maeve sighed. "Well, his acceptance to my offer to talk again, and the fact he actually stood behind my mirror and didn't try to take off, it did make me wonder. Erik is not known for being open or trusting. Please don't take it as a personal insult towards you. It was my logical side asserting itself."  
  
Amanda nodded, and refilled Maeve's cup. "Oh, I also wanted to let you know, Q told Captain Picard what is going on, and though he wasn't overly happy, he's relieved that you're OK. He did insist that both Q and I make sure you come home in one piece. Q teased him, as usual. I promised him that I would make sure you get home."  
  
Maeve grinned, imagining the 'talk' between Q and Jean-Luc. "Thank you both for letting him know what's going on. Now, I best be getting home. I think tomorrow will be long. Christine should be returning tomorrow, right?" Amanda nodded. "You want some company, Maeve? I missed being able to talk to you like I did before I left the Enterprise."  
  
Maeve shook her head. "I need to meditate alone. After feeling both Erik's and Christine's emotions I need to re-center and gather my thoughts. But thank you. You are aware that you're welcome to visit me anytime? You don't need an invite."  
  
Amanda smiled. "Thank you. I'll remember that. See you around, Maeve." With that, she left Maeve to her thoughts.  
  
As she got dressed and left for her flat, Maeve could not help but wonder just what tomorrow would bring.  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
**Thank the Gods I took the time to re-center.** Maeve thought what felt the hundredth time that morning. Christine did indeed return, but was not talking to anyone. Carlotta was in a fit, the managers were frantic to find out what happened to Christine, and everyone else was 'Poor Christine' this and 'Poor Christine' that. It was enough to make Maeve scream. Yes, Erik had been wrong to make the young girl believe he was her Angel of Music, but she had hurt that man in a way that she might never truly understand. Raoul had hardly left Christine's side when he wasn't locked out of her dressing room, holding obscene amounts of roses for her when she emerged from her room. Maeve laughed every time she passed by and looked at him. But she still had had no chance to talk with Christine, to see what was really going on in that girl's mind. After the shock the last evening, Maeve had not opened herself to anything, but came to the conclusion that before writing Christine off entirely she may as well find out what was going on internally in Christine.  
  
Finally, Christine quietly walked out, Raoul not there as he had been drug off by Carlotta and the managers for some thing or another. As she walked to Maeve's dressing room, she tapped on the door.  
  
Maeve was rather surprised to hear someone tapping on her door. "Who is it?" She was even more surprised to hear Christine's small voice ask if she could come in. Maeve got up and let her in. "What brings you to my room Christine?"  
  
Christine looked even smaller then before, and very lost. She looked at Maeve and it seemed to Maeve that the girl was looking for guidance. "Maeve, as you may have already heard, something happened to me after the gala,..."  
  
Maeve nodded. "Yes, but I wasn't about to push you. You can tell me anything, and I shall not tell a soul. It must have been terrible, whatever it is." Christine looked up a bit surprised. "Yes. It was. I,..I met my teacher,... but he wasn't the teacher I thought he was. And his,...his face,... it was like the dead! He was angry that I saw it,... but I was angry that he lied to me!"  
  
Maeve nodded, but as she lightly probed the girl, the one thing she could feel was that Christine was not in any way worried about how she had hurt her teacher, one that she loved as a father and cared about. No she was more worried about herself, and her future as a singer. And she was blown away by Raoul's flattering attentions, and his status. **So, you'll take all that Erik taught you, throw it in his face as you run off with an overly wealthy fop, who wants a little wife to give him babies, and be a proper wife. In marrying Raoul you most likely will never sing again, and that is your life. But you're ready to run away from a little bit facial deformity!? Ugh, you are hopeless girl.**  
  
Maeve kept her eyes calm, but she was only feeling a coldness towards Christine, tempered with pity. The child was silly, confused and not really thinking this whole thing out. "Well, Christine. All I can say to this, is that if this man was willing to teach you, and do so very well if your performance on opening night was any indication, then your ripping his mask off was not the best thing to do, and that you best figure out what you wish to do with your life. For if your description is anything to go by and taking into account the way Raoul is acting towards you, that your teacher may not be overly willing to go on teaching you. And if I were you I would apologize to him for taking his mask off. Now, Mme. Giry wanted to go over some steps with me, so if you'll excuse me." At this Maeve stood up, and left her room, not even looking back.  
  
**Serves you right, silly child. Not excusing Erik's actions, but at least he didn't try to reveal your greatest secret or would reveal your deformity if you had one.**  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
Three hours and two very sore feet later, Maeve returned to her room. No one had seen Christine since she left for her small flat that evening. Raoul followed her, but no one knew if he stayed with Christine, or if she sent him on his way. Not that it mattered to Maeve.  
  
Locking her door, she moved to get out of her rehearsal dress when she spied a piece of paper written in red ink on her vanity. Moving to it, knowing that it most likely came from Erik, she picked it up to read it.  
  
I will meet you at your flat. ~Erik~  
  
Maeve sighed and finished dressing. **Well, now comes time for the counseling session.** Locking the door behind her as she left, she walked very quickly to the door of the opera, and to her flat. In this case, she was very thankful her home was so close.  
  
As she walked up the stairs to the flat's door, she noticed that a light shown under the door, and yet it was still locked. Casting her mind forward, she was not at all surprised that Erik had already let himself inside. She laughed to herself, and opened her door. Looking to her right into the sitting room, sat Erik. His black cloak pooled around his feet, his hat cast aside on the end table to his right. A fire crackled and two of her six gas lamps were on, giving the room a very warm and secluded glow. The semi-darkness suited his mood, and he sipped brandy, as Maeve put her cloak away and moved to make herself tea.  
  
With tea in hand, Maeve slowly sank into the chair that sat across from the couch Erik now occupied. For almost thirty minutes, nothing was said. Maeve knew Erik wanted her so say something, but this was his idea for him to come; she had only offered him the invitation and the knowledge that she would listen to him without judgment. **At least, I hope he takes it that way,...**  
  
Finally, it seemed that Erik didn't want silence anymore, and he stood up with a gritted growl of annoyance. "Well, will you not say something? Women are so good at saying something when they have guests."  
  
"What would you like me to say, Erik? This is your chance to talk and to be listened to. All I can say is that I know what you are going through, and I understand." Erik, who had been pacing around her flat like a caged animal, turned towards her, eyes flashing.  
  
"And how would you know ANYTHING about how I feel?! You don't know what it's like to have a face like mine! You never lived my life!! In fact, I really have no idea why I'm telling you of all people that you have no idea how I truly feel!" His outburst ended right in front of Maeve's face. Erik was a bit surprised that unlike others, she didn't even flinch from him. She just looked back at him, with what looked like understanding in her eyes.  
  
"I do know, Erik. As I said two days ago, you have the excuse of a face for what you suffered. Mine was blood, and there was little I could do to stop the pain I went through." Erik pulled back slightly at this, and she took the chance to place her teacup down, lest she break it. "You asked to know about me, and how I knew so much about you. I am just not aware of a way to tell you the truth, for you deserve the truth, that will not have you committing me to the insane ward of a hospital." She looked at him as she said this, gripping the side of her chair tightly.  
  
Erik sat back down, and looked at her with his head tilted to the side. "And what, dear lady, could you say that would show me what you went through and that you truly understand? You have no idea what I suffered!! And what's this about you being insane? You are truly mad to even be talking with me. Your life could be forfeit, like others." He settled back in his seat, looking rather smug in Maeve's opinion.  
  
Still gripping the chair, she pondered his words. "I great deal has happened to me that was just as painful as what you went through. And I do know what you went through. As for me being insane, well then I am. But you need a friend; someone that will understand you, and not do what a certain young lady did just yesterday. What she did was uncalled for, and an extreme violation of the trust you placed in her, and the hopes you had and still have."  
  
Erik looked at Maeve, his eyes holding a rather dangerous glow. "You best tread lightly. You are on very dangerous ground. I have killed people for knowing less and hinting at less then you do right now. Also, what happened between myself and my dear Christine is none of your business!" He stood, and loomed over Maeve again. "In fact, I just may end this little question and answer session right now. You do interest me, but all that has happened here has cut too close to my privacy, and I still have not heard a word about yourself, or how you 'know' about me." His hand went to his cloak, and Maeve braced for his lasso. This wasn't how she had wanted to show him who and what she really was, but then again she had botched her attempts to win his trust more thoroughly with her comments. She didn't want to lie, but she did rub the wrong nerve. **The books have nothing on how to talk to this man,...**  
  
Erik flicked his lasso out, and it curled around Maeve's neck. **Pity. I really did want to know more about her. But she knows too much.** Yet, as she tightened his hold, she didn't move. She didn't even seem bothered by this attack. **Is this girl truly mad?!**  
  
Slowly standing up, and thanking her parents that they had made sure her predominate genes were Vulcan, therefore giving her the increased lung capacity so she could hold her breath and for the added strength, she took the lasso in her left hand, and flicked it off her neck, and thrust it back into Erik's startled hands. As she did this however, her hand caught a sharp edge of leather, and the skin tore away. With a hiss, she clenched her fist. The blood welled up and started to seep between her fingers. Looking at her hand, she realized here was the way she could prove that what she told was true.  
  
Erik, standing stunned that this wisp of a girl had just removed and thrown his lasso back at him with a strength she should not have had, noticed her hand. She looked at him, and extended her hand to him, opening the fingers up so he could see the damage. **What is she trying to do, make me feel guilty?**  
  
"You wanted to know who I am, Erik. You just gave me a way to tell you, and ensure you believe what I say." Erik looked at the blood, and in the light of the fire and lamps, he gaped at what he saw.  
  
It was green! The blood was green!  
  
He took her hand, and looked it over, seeing if there was any way she could fake this. But he found nothing. The cut was real, the blood was real. He looked back at her, and took a step back. "Who, what are you?"  
  
Maeve smiled slightly, and took a cloth from the kitchen to stanch the flow of blood. "Please sit down, Erik. This will take some time to explain,..."  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
As the hours past, he sat in rapt attention as Maeve told of her real heritage, how the Vulcan people evolved and almost killed themselves with their rage and out of control emotions. She told of how her family was related to the great Surak, the man who brought logic to Vulcan and saved all of them form extinction.  
  
She told of Betazed, and the Human linige she had through her father's family line, though he was full Boatload. She then told of the United Federation of Planets, and how Humanity achieved warp drive and that it was the Vulcans that discovered Humans, and in their own overly cautious way helped them travel into the stars.  
  
She finished with some of her own history, of how hard it was being caught in three cultures, and never knowing which she truly belonged to. The pranks she was subjected to at the Academy, even when she went home to Vulcan, or to Betazed. She hesitated when it came to her near marriage, and she hinted at an incident five years after her ex-husband was placed in jail on Vulcan. Even after over 60 years, it was still hard to discuss what took place.  
  
Erik looked her in her eyes. "You said you would tell me everything. Why leave out this part of your life? You said it gives you the understanding into me that you claim to have."  
  
Maeve sighed. "Too tell you, I have to ask that you trust me to do this. Telling you any other way would,... not impart the full enormity of the event." Erik looked at her, and raised an eyebrow. "What are you going to do?"  
  
Maeve moved to kneel in front of Erik, and raised her right hand. "I told you Vulcans are telepaths. I wish to perform a mind meld. I feel, despite what my logical side is saying, that this will help you understand this part of my life. Do you accept?"  
  
Erik, asking himself why he even came to his place and questioning his own sanity, nodded. "You shall observe my privacy?" Maeve nodded. "Always, Erik. My wish is to be friends. To be a friend you can trust to come to when you need help. And I know that this may be the only way to earn that trust, after all you have gone through. I know that I need to show you this, so you know I have suffered for my differences like you have suffered for yours."  
  
Still wondering where his good judgment went to, Erik nodded again. Her warm fingers rested on his face, her voice sounding very hypnotic. "My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts. We are one,..."  
  
**Beginning of Meld**  
  
The hot sands of Vulcan pulled at the young woman that stood at gong, the family ancestral land for the Pon Farr. The procession with her father, mother, Sarek, and Amanda entered the grounds. Sendet was nowhere to be seen, but that bothered young T'Maeve little. The plak tow was growing, and all her mind could focus on was her husband, Solkar. He entered then, and then T'Pau, with her attendants. The two guards, holding lirpa's, stood ready if a challenge was issued.  
  
The words were a blur, and an annoyance. She wanted her husband now! But she held still, as the voice of T'Pau rang out over the assembly.  
  
Suddenly, Sendet ran into the group, and pulled T'Maeve away from Solkar. "Do not wed them, T'Pau! He means to kill her, due to her non-Vulcan blood! He's an Isolationist.*"  
  
Solkar grew green in his ears, showing his anger, and T'Maeve struggled against her brother. "No, Sendet!! I don't believe it! He is my mate! I know him, though our betrothal bond! He could not do this!" She looked to Solkar, as if for him to assure her. But with the blood fever in full force, he only looked to her with contempt. She felt the same through their bond, and saw for the first time the real Solkar. Not the one she fancied herself to be in love with. She sagged against her brother, as he provided the proof of Solkar's plans to kill T'Maeve after she had produced a male son that would be fully Vulcan with help from the healers. No alien blood was to exist in the child. Then T'Maeve would die in a tragic 'accident,' leaving Solkar to take over all of T'Maeve's titles via the infant son. She heard none of it, for she could only hear Solkar's laugh, his cold and evil laugh. T'Maeve was barely 20, and the Pon Farr had come early for her. This was not something she could handle.  
  
**Why? All for my tainted blood,.... You are Vulcan. What of IDIC? My tainted blood,...** These thoughts filled her mind, and T'Pau reviewed the evidence and declared it true. "Now, thou must decide if thee wants to challenge, or if thee wishes the bond be dissolved?" T'Pau looked over to T'Maeve, wondering if she heard anything.  
  
T'Maeve had. For though all she had heard was 'challenge,' it was enough. "Kun-ut-kali-farr!!!! I challenge thee, Solkar, son of Solan!!! I challenge you myself!!!" With that, she lunged for a lirpa, yanking it out of the very startled guard's hand. She hardly gave Solkar time to get his own before she threw herself at him, attacking him with a rage not seen on Vulcan for many generations. Sendet quickly dived out of harms way, and looked on with a bit of fear for his sister evident in his eyes.  
  
The sounds of breaking ribs, and screams of pain rang out over the sands, and the two combatants fought on for what seemed like hours. But soon, Solkar was drained of his Pon Farr, and the guards deemed T'Maeve was drained of hers. She sat, cut and bleeding heavily, as Solkar was taken into custody. T'Pau touched both T'Maeve and Solkar briefly, dissolving the betrothal bond.  
  
Yet when Sendet moved to help his sister up, she threw him off of her, and she screamed in pain of her betrayal. Before anyone could stop her, she ran as fast as she could, her mind almost shattered from the shock of what had happened.  
  
For five days, no one found her. But on the sixth morning, she staggered into the front yard of Sarek and Amanda, almost falling into Amanda's rose bush. It took several weeks to hear all of her injuries, and her emotions. Her mind was also healed, but she kept the scars. A reminder, she told everyone, of a very hard lesson in life.  
  
For 6 years, T'Maeve moved on, but the shadow of Solkar followed her. He could still touch her mind, and she blamed her Betazoid blood. She fought with her mother, and asked why had she and father had cursed her to be tainted like she was, never belonging and hated by Vulcans, and ignored by Betazoids. Her father Marcus was crushed, and retreated to his office to get away from T'Maeve. Her mother T'Ana, would try to comfort her daughter, knowing that Solkar and his memory had clouded her daughter's judgment. T'Ana would then comfort her husband, and assure him it was just the idea that Solkar had implanted into their daughter's mind. And that they could do nothing, but be there for her, and let her handle it. The healers could do nothing, as this problem was something T'Maeve had to get rid of herself.  
  
It was ironic that Solkar offered that chance himself. Having gone mad, he killed two Vulcan guards, stole a ship, and followed T'Maeve to Earth, where she was teaching a class at the Academy. T'Maeve had taken a few years sabbatical from Starfleet, and was thinking of leaving completely. The class she was teaching was to get her mind off of all that was going on in her life.  
  
Solkar tracked T'Maeve to her quarters, and cornered her there. Sendet, who was planning to visit his sister, saw Solkar enter his sister's quarters, and was the only one to witness the slaughter.  
  
T'Maeve had collected old and restored samurai swords, and she used them often. Ripping one off the wall, Solkar went after T'Maeve, screaming that she had ruined his life. T'Maeve, caught off guard, tried to act Vulcan (something she had been trying for some time to fit in someway) and defuse the situation. But as he attacked harder, something in T'Maeve snapped, and she returned the attack. The clashing of steel on steel filled the room, along with the gasps of blades hitting home. Sendet was rather glad he was not Solkar right now, as she watched his sister set about attacking her ex-husband with the same rage she had 6 years earlier. Finally, it was all over, Solkar was dead, and Sendet regarded his sister as she stood there. Blood from her sword dripped onto the floor. It was the only sound in the room besides her breathing.  
  
Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.  
  
"Sendet, all of the details shall go no farther then us. Please inform security of this incident, and explain that it was to save my life that I attacked as I did."  
  
Sendet moved towards the door, but stopped. "Sister, are you alright?" She turned to look at her brother, and he had to hold in a gasp. The amount of blood on her was so great, Sendet had no idea where her blood started, and Solkar's started. T'Maeve looked her brother full in his eye, and nodded. "Yes, I am fine. I am free. Finally free."  
  
**End Meld**  
  
Her hands shaking, Maeve pulled back from Erik. His eyes looked at her with shock, and a bit of wonder. She sat back, wiping tears away. "I was finally free. After the Vulcan Government sealed the record of the event with a privacy seal, and Starfleet recorded it all as self-defense, it was never mentioned. But I felt a freedom that I never had before. It made me realize that I was not tainted, or less then anything. I was me. Special, unique, and my blood was something to be proud of. I never got away from the teasing or the looks of distain from my fellow Vulcans, but they no longer bothered me. I knew better then to let them get to me. And I embraced my differences. They are part of me, and the best way to heal is to love yourself."  
  
Standing up shakily, Maeve sat back in her chair, and said the only logical thing that came to her mind.  
  
"More brandy?"  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
**sighs** Oy, this was a long chapter. Hope it's not too long, and you'll enjoy it. Again, thanks to my roommate, boyfriend, fellow fan fic writers, and to those who have reviewed so far. Your comments/advice/suggestions all make this worthwhile. I really can't say thank you enough.  
  
* - The Isolationists are a group of Vulcans that crop up in the novel "Spock's World." They also return in the Star Trek: The Next Generation episode "Gambit" parts 1 and 2.  
  
Continued in chapter 6 – Reactions at Home and Reactions from Erik 


	6. Reactions at Home and Reactions from Eri...

Disclaimer: No changes, though again I wish to thank my roommate and my boyfriend for their input, along with those who have reviewed and offered me ideas (IE Erikstrulove, and Lessa to name a few). Thank you so much for your support and help. Without you, there would not be a reason to write. Some of the dialog is from the website "Phantom Passion." Many thanks to the web-host for placing the lyrics on the net.  
  
Remember folks, no disrespect intended but I only laugh at the flames.  
  
Note: Delay for this chapter being posted and the rest of the story is due to working 40 hours a week at my new job and school work. I will update after the semester is over, which will be after 10 May. Also, for those who are Harry Potter fans, I plan to start my own fic focusing on Severus Snape. As I have not had a chance to read all of the books, and have seen the first two movies, any advice/feedback/ect is much appreciated.  
  
* * * * * * * * ** * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Chapter 6 – Reactions at Home and Reactions from Erik  
  
It had been over two weeks to T'Maeve's understanding since she arrived in Paris, but on the Enterprise it had only been a few days since she disappeared. When Captain Picard found out from Amanda where T'Maeve was and why, to say he was mad would be putting it lightly. He still didn't trust Q as far as he could throw him, and as a captain and somewhat a father, he worried for Maeve.  
  
Sitting at his desk in his Ready Room, his tea long gone cold, he replayed the conversation with Amanda and Q in his mind...  
  
**Flashback**  
  
"She's where?! Q, I do not care for your tricks, nor do I stand for you playing tricks on my crew!"  
  
Amanda sat on the couch in the Ready Room, looking solemn, while Q just smirked. "Why, mon Capitan, I thought you of all people would be happy that the dear girl was living a dream and getting a chance to be happy. And I assure you she is fine and will remain so. I will not allow her to be harmed. This is, after all, my gift to her. And I don't care for this gift to go awry. Plus, Amanda would never let me forget it if I let anything bad happen to Maeve." At this, he turned to Amanda, who was giving him a look of 'You better believe it, Q.' She turned to Picard, who was still pacing by his desk.  
  
"Sir, I know I was only on the Enterprise for a short time, but I grew to think of T'Maeve as a good friend. She is happy in giving this a try, and I will not let Q live it down if this gift goes awry. As we stated, this universe will not have Starfleet develop, so the Prime Directive is a moot point. Besides, she is taking every precaution to pass as Human. It is not as if she's parading around going 'Look at me, I'm an alien.' You know her better them that, sir. All three of us, and the rest of the ship, do."  
  
Picard sighed, and sat down in his chair. "I do know that you state the truth, Amanda. But you do understand, that Q has done things like this before, and they never turned out well at all." Q looked hurt, and placed a hand over his heart in an exaggeration of a wound.  
  
"My dear Jean-Luc! What of the chance I gave you, to see what would have happened if you had not been stabbed so many years ago? Was that not a blessing?"  
  
Picard sighed again, and glared at Q. "I will not deny that I am glad I was able to see that possible future. But what of the Robin Hood foolishness? Or the encounter with the Borg? Those were not gifts!"  
  
Q waved a hand in the air. "Details, Jean-Luc, details. You do have to admit, and I know you did, that the encounter with the Borg that I caused did give Starfleet the chance to know what was coming. And what of Vash? You saved her, and showed her that you did indeed care. True she left with me, but she is fine, and will return eventually."  
  
Picard was about to answer when the door chimed. "Enter." Data walked in and stopped at the sight of Amanda and Q.  
  
"Q, Amanda, what is the reason for your arrival?" Amanda smiled, and proceeded to fill Data in on what was going on with T'Maeve, while Q smiled smugly, as normal, and Picard fumed.  
  
When Amanda was finished, Data turned to Picard. "Sir, if I may speak frankly?" At the nod, he continued. "I believe that T'Maeve is safe, and that both Amanda and Q will keep their word regarding T'Maeve's safety. As you may recall, Q's gift to me was quite safe, and welcome. I am not saying what they did was correct, but I am saying that what they have done is give her a gift that I believe she deserves."  
  
Q stood and clapped Data on the back. "Ah, my professor of the Humanities. You have spoken true. And hopefully, Jean-Luc will understand that from you." All looked to Picard, who knew that he could argue with Q for hours, but could not undo what was done. Except to demand the return of T'Maeve, but he could see that was not possible, and he wouldn't get anywhere.  
  
Sighing, Picard replied, "Yes, Q, I do understand. And I know that trying to argue with you to get her returned won't work. I have learned that much. When will she return?" Q looked to Amanda, and she in turn answered. "As soon as the gift is fulfilled, or if Fate isn't kind, and nothing will amount to it. I've already told her that neither Q nor myself are manipulating Erik's emotions. If love is going to form, it will form on its own. I don't know the outcome of this, and neither does Q. But T'Maeve deserves this chance. And so does Erik. Once the outcome is set in stone, as it were, we'll bring her back. It may be many months to her, but it will only be another day or more here."  
  
Picard nodded, and looked to Amanda. "Keep her safe." The blond Q nodded, and smiled back. "I promise sir. I will." With that, she and Q left.  
  
Data moved to leave as well, but Picard stopped him. "Data, was it wise to simply trust Q? After all that's happened with regards to him." Data pondered this, and moved to sit down in front of the desk.  
  
"Again, sir, if I speak frankly? I know that an argument would not have brought T'Maeve back, and I believe that in this case, we can trust Q, and Amanda to keep T'Maeve safe, and to return her. Though I am curious why they would choose this time and this situation for which to give T'Maeve the chance to find love."  
  
Picard laughed slightly. "You are not the only one. "The Phantom of the Opera",... well I know that she has always felt a strong affinity to the character of the Phantom. I just never knew it went this deep. But from what I know of Maeve, they would actually suit each other." At this he paused, and laughed again. "Here I am playing matchmaker. I really need a vacation."  
  
Data said nothing, but Picard could make out an understanding of the joke and a slight smile. "Shall I inform the bridge of T'Maeve's location and situation?"  
  
"No, Data, but thank you. I'll be calling a meeting in ten minutes. I shall tell everyone then." Data nodded, and left the room leaving Picard in deep thought.  
  
**Oh, Maeve, I hope you know what you're getting yourself into,...**  
  
**End Flashback**  
  
That had been several hours ago, and Picard was still was worried. He only hoped that no matter what happened, that Maeve would not be hurt any more then she already had been in her life.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
It was raining again, and T'Maeve sat looking out her window. It had been three days after Erik met her at her flat, and after she had revealed nearly everything about herself, and what had happened to her. She never touched upon the history surrounding Erik, and what the outcome was of this path he held onto with determination. She reasoned that she wasn't here to change the future, but to let Erik do that on his own. Like Q and Amanda, she wouldn't interfere if it just wasn't meant to be.  
  
But if she could, she would try to prevent the death of Buquet. She had caught the end of his demonstration of defending oneself from Erik's lasso, and hoped this time he might listen to Mme. Giry's advice. But the way he was egging on the ballet girls and making them laugh as well; Maeve doubted Buquet would listen to any advice.  
  
After she got up to fetch more brandy, Erik had slipped away without a word. To be honest, Maeve wasn't that surprised. He was known, in a way, for doing just that. He most likely felt trapped and had to run. She probably would have done the same.  
  
Sighing, she sat back in her couch, and could still smell Erik's scent on the cushions. Warm, sensual, and something else she couldn't identify, but whatever it was it made her heart ache with a longing she hadn't felt since Pon Farr. **Well, I've fallen, and fallen hard. I just fear it will never be returned, that maybe my differences will be even more shocking then his own, and he's honestly afraid. All I know is that his mind was actually comforting to be in, despite its chaotic thoughts, and being Human thoughts at that. But I still felt as if I were home.**  
  
Groaning at where these thoughts were taking her, she pulled out some Engineering specs and papers and read them to take the edge off of the frustration she was feeling.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Later that week, on her back to her dressing room, Maeve's mind was caught up in all that had transpired: The flurry of Carlotta as she gloated over getting the lead as the Countess in Il Muto, and Christine as the silent Pageboy. Maeve knew this would irk Erik to no end, and was waiting for him to let his displeasure be known. She knew that if all went as it was in the musical, the chandelier would fall, and Erik's heart broken again by Christine, though not fully on purpose. Despite the dislike Maeve had for the girl, she was just that—a girl who was very confused, and still had a lot to learn.  
  
It was humorous to watch Carlotta flounce about and the managers fawning around her. Both she and Meg were in stitches about it, enough to raise the anger of Meg's mother. But the laughter had been worth it.  
  
Opening the door, Maeve's jaw hit the floor as she saw Erik, cool and collected, sitting on the divan in the room. Checking to make sure no one noticed his presence, Maeve ducked into her room and locked the door, "For security reasons," she told him as he nodded, and slowly made her way to her chair in front of her vanity.  
  
"I was hoping I would see you before the performance tonight. I fear I may have overwhelmed you and made you feel cornered a few days ago," Maeve commented quietly. Erik shook his head, and shifted slightly. His cloak pooled around him, and that scent of his filled the room. Maeve enjoyed the feeling it gave her while using the logic she learned to make sure she behaved herself. **Goodness, I'm behaving like a hormonal Vulcan in Pon Farr!**  
  
"I wished to reflect on what you told and showed me. And I wanted to do that alone. I had a feeling you would understand." He smiled slightly, and Maeve nodded.  
  
"I did, actually. And I am thankful that you trusted me enough to come to me, someone you hardly know. Though, I never expected to be strangled as a way of 'breaking the ice.'" She looked at her hand, which was fine thanks to the dermal regenerator she had tucked away at her flat. Erik looked as well, and raised an eyebrow.  
  
"How is it healed so fast? Another Vulcan trait?" Maeve shook her head. "No, technology. I shall show you at another time. But I feel you are here for more then idle talk. Please, tell me what is on your mind."  
  
Erik smiled again, and rose to pace the room. "You know of what they have done with my orders regarding Il Muto? Do they have a death wish?" Maeve grinned and shrugged. "Wish I could say. But I think that Carlotta's acting tonight may chase away patrons and audience members alike. Though, who knows how the evening will turn out? I have a feeling that you'll make sure Christine is the lead, no matter what. What I cannot fully understand, though in a way I do, is why? After her actions four days ago?"  
  
Erik stopped dead, and turned to look at Maeve. **How dare she?!** He tried to stay calm as he spoke. "I love her. With all you went through, I know you do understand that emotion, and what one would do for that love."  
  
Maeve stood to look at Erik. A fight was brewing, but she really didn't care. "Yes, but you have not talked to her since then, not fully. I have. I have looked at her surface emotions, and I'm afraid to tell you that you are getting your hopes up. And I recommend that you let the girl go. She's young, and even though that's a good excuse, it's not enough. She needs to learn, but as your friend, I don't want her learning to be at your expense. You've had more then enough happen to you already." As she finished, she could feel the rage build around Erik. Again she thanked her parents' foresight to give her Vulcan DNA precedence. She had a feeling she would need the abilities she had, when Erik exploded.  
  
And explode he did. "How dare you tell me what I should and should not do! You have no understanding of what I feel for Christine!!"  
  
Maeve bristled at this. **And I thought I was stubborn.** She stood to her full height, five foot two, and looked Erik in the eyes. "Actually, I do know what you feel and how you want to have her fully and to have her love you! Yet like the others, she can't get past your face! And I don't want you to have to go through what I went through for over 65 years! I still have nightmares, and the scars still bleed, Erik! Do you want that? To always question why you lived, let your music die, and allow all those that ever hurt you to win!? For goodness sake, to borrow a 20th century term, get your head out of your ass, and see that you are leading yourself to destruction!"  
  
Erik's eyes widened at her words, especially the ass part, but then narrowed as he hissed, "You are more of a prying Pandora then Christine!" He moved to hit her, his rage that great. It would be his first time hitting a woman, but she had pushed him that far.  
  
Maeve was expecting this, and as his hand came around, shockingly fast for a Human, she caught it. "Don't Erik. You'll only hurt yourself. And though I know I pushed you, maybe this will be the slap upside the head you need."  
  
Thinking of how she would defuse this situation, an idea came to her. She began to carefully rub the pulse point on his wrist, and his muscles surprisingly relaxed. Looking him in the eyes, she continued to talk. "Besides, you think what I did to my now dead husband was bad? That wasn't even the tip of the preverbal iceberg, Erik. There is so much more, so much more darkness in Vulcans, which we are all afraid of. And to let it go, I would rather kill myself then hurt you like that. That is why we have logic, to keep us from losing all control."  
  
As she continued to rub his pulse point, she took a step closer and closed her right hand around his fist and her left hand. "Your hands are beautiful. Cool, yes, but that's because I'm rather hot-blooded. So slender, and actually quite soft." She continued her inspection of his hand, and as her nail grazed the skin over his pulse, he shuddered. Strongly.  
  
Realizing she had accidentally taken it a bit too far, she softly kissed then gently squeezed his hand and stepped back. "It's time for me to get ready. I think you already know that Raoul is sitting in your box tonight to spite you. Be careful, and remember, I am here for you. Just like Nadir. I'm always here for you." She turned to give him a moment to compose himself, and to get her costume. Not surprisingly, he was gone, though her mirror, by the time she turned back around.  
  
Looking at the ceiling she shook her head. "Oh, Erik, what you will go through tonight...I wish I could help and comfort you when you realize that Christine has chosen Raoul..."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Moving with none of his cat-like grace or speed, Erik moved up towards his box, replaying what had just happened in his mind. He was rather shocked that she not only provoked him enough to make him want to hit her, but yet another example of her Vulcan strength. Pausing briefly to actually catch his breath, he looked at his right hand, where it still burned with her warmth and her kiss.  
  
**What did she do to me? No one has ever touched me like that,.. without fear or revulsion. Or kissed me like that,... Why? Doesn't she understand I love Christine,..but Christine never tried to touch me like that,..to do that with her fingers or her nails,.. or her lips... Is Maeve right? Am I plunging headlong into my own destruction? It wouldn't be the first time,... But the way she touched me,...** His body was still shaking at the emotions her simple touch had caused. It was more then just the fact she touched him and wasn't bothered by his 'death hands' as others had called them. It was more, because he reacted to it. And no matter what he did, he couldn't shake the feeling that she was right, nor could he lie to himself and say that her touch didn't affect him.  
  
Because it did.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
As the lights came down, Raoul quietly spoke with the managers. "Gentlemen, if you would care to take your seats? I shall be sitting in Box Five." Understandably, the managers were surprised. "Do you really think that's wise, monsieur?" asked Andre.  
  
Raoul shrugged. "My dear Andre, there would appear to be no seats available, other than Box Five." With that, he sat down, the curtain rose.  
  
Watching from backstage, Maeve watched as the play opened with Carlotta as the Countess. Christine the silent Page Boy. Maeve cringed slightly seeing Raoul in Box Five, then as Carlotta began to sing. "Serafimo -away with this pretence! You cannot speak, but kiss me in my husband's absence! Poor fool, he makes me laugh! Haha, Haha! Time I tried to get a better half !" The chorus started in with their lines, and all was going well, until Erik's voice boomed out over the opera.  
  
"Did I not instruct that Box Five was to be kept empty?!" Maeve closed her eyes, knowing what was to come next. Christine looked white, and murmured, "It's him. I know it. It's him!" Carlotta turned, and hissed in anger. "Your part is silent, little toad!"  
  
Maeve couldn't help but grin, knowing Erik's comeback to this accusation to Christine. "A toad, madam? Perhaps it is you who are the toad." Carlotta brushed this off, and after talking with the conductor, the play began again. But no sooner then she began singing again, Carlotta croaked. Erik laughed quietly, though everyone in the opera heard him. Carlotta sang again, continuing with the song, but more croaks came out! Erik was now laughing full force, and it rang out from everywhere. Finally, as Carlotta began to cry and make her mad dash off the stage, Erik cried out, "Behold! She is singing to bring down the chandelier!" The lights on the chandelier began to blink on and off as he said this.  
  
As Carlotta left the stage, the managers came out to address the audience. "Ladies and gentlemen, the performance will continue in ten minutes' time, when the role of the Countess will be sung by Miss Christine Daae. In the meantime, ladies and gentlemen, we shall be giving you the ballet from Act Three of tonight's opera." To the conductor, Firman whispered, "Maestro -the ballet -now!"  
  
Maeve chose this moment to look up at Buquet, who was watching the action on the stage while working to move the props. She noticed he wasn't watching where he was going, and was getting very close to some looped rope on the edge of the catwalk. Yet before she could call out a warning, Meg all but drug her out on stage with the rest of the dancers to begin the dance. Spirits sinking, she began to dance. It wasn't long though that Buquet slipped on the rope, and fell, caught by the unintentional noose. Shadows of Erik became visible, and both Maeve and Meg noticed them. Maeve sensed that Erik was checking on Buquet, but she knew there was nothing that could be done. Finally, the prop of the sylvan glade behind the dancers flew out, and Buquet's body was visible.  
  
Christine, who was standing backstage, cried out for Raoul, and Maeve watched as they took off towards the roof, Erik in hot pursuit. As the managers tried to calm the audience and stating that the fate of Buquet was an accident, Meg came over to Maeve, who stood out of site, watching.  
  
"Maeve, are you OK?" Maeve shook her head and pointed to Buquet. "No one notices Meg, but it's an accident! The Phantom didn't do this to Buquet. I noticed that he was working up there and not watching where he stepped, but before I could say anything Carlotta started croaking, ran off, and we had to perform. I never got the chance to warn him,..." And it was true, and Maeve felt guilty for that.  
  
As the two women stood with the rest of the dance troupe, Maeve mentally sought out Erik, and braced herself. He was about to be betrayed again.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Erik stood hidden by a statue on the roof, listening to Christine and that annoying boy Raoul, and was startled by what he heard. "Raoul, I've been there -to his world of unending night. To a world where the daylight dissolves into darkness. Raoul, I've seen him! Can I ever forget that sight? Can I ever escape from that face? So distorted, deformed, it was hardly a face, in that darkness!"  
  
Raoul held Christine, trying to reassure her all that she had seen was a dream. "Christine. Christine. No more talk of darkness, Forget these wide- eyed fears. I'm here, nothing can harm you -my words will warm and calm you. Let me be your freedom, let daylight dry your tears. I'm here, with you, beside you, to guard you and to guide you." Christine responded much to Erik's pain, and as he listened they pledged their love for each other.  
  
Inside, Erik's heart broke again, but this time it hurt more. He had held out a small glint of hope that he could show her that her fear could turn to love. But it was for naught. Tears ran down his face, soaking into his cloak and shirt. He watched, as the couple moved off, back towards the opera.  
  
"I must go," Christine exclaimed. "They'll wonder where I am. Wait for me, Raoul! Order your fine horses! Be with them at the door!" Raoul nodded, calling out "Christine, I love you!" Christine replied the same, and they moved away from Erik, back inside.  
  
Erik finally came out from behind the statue he was hiding behind, sobbing to himself. "I gave you my music; made your song take wing. And now, how you've repaid me: denied me and betrayed me. He was bound to love you when he heard you sing. Christine. Oh, Christine,..." Feeling his rage build, he cried out to the air: "You will curse the day you did not do all that the Phantom asked of you!" With that, he hurried back inside, to have revenge.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Maeve looked up to see Christine returning with Raoul several minutes later, in costume as the Countess. Stealing a glance to Box 5, Erik wasn't there, but she could feel him getting ready to let loose his fury and hurt. The force of his emotions had hit her earlier, while he was on the roof, and it had taken her several minutes to compose herself.  
  
As the play ended and the actors came forward to take their bows, Erik's laughter overwhelmed the opera, and the chandelier began to sway. The lights flickered, and Maeve looked up to see Erik close to the chandelier. Finally, with Erik screaming, "Go!" it fell, and landed at Christine's feet.  
  
With tears streaming down her face from the force of his emotions, Maeve looked up to see Erik where the chandelier had been, pain written all over his face. Despite the gravity of the situation, looking over the chandelier, Maeve commented to herself:  
  
"And I thought I had a temper."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Oy. This chapter hammered out in between finishing up a paper for a college class and other homework. Many thanks from those who proofread and gave ideas. Hope you liked it, and look forward to Chapter 7 – Descent Part I and II 


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